


from ice to the sun

by fullonmonet



Category: Naruto
Genre: Child Star AU, Gardens & Gardening, Healing, M/M, Past Child Abuse, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-03-09 04:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullonmonet/pseuds/fullonmonet
Summary: Gaara goes home to find himself, happiness, and Naruto.





	from ice to the sun

**Author's Note:**

> "i cried about gaara's infinite tsukuyomi dream 67 times" the fic
> 
> i put a mature rating not bc there's smut but bc depression and child abuse are definitely mature matters.
> 
> a lot of things in the fic were from my personal experiences and the thoughts of my friends and i absolutely didn't write this fic with the intent of being prescriptive BUT if you are having similar thoughts, then i highly encourage you to reach out and seek help. i'm always open if you need an ear. you are not alone. ♡
> 
> i also don't know a lot about gardening. this was all just google so don't @ me
> 
> title from a [bon appétit](https://www.bonappetit.com/story/mil-restaurant-peru) article (i know)
> 
> BIG thanks to arwa who rly helped me out with the conceptualisation and characterisation!! i love u ♡

The WELCOME TO SUNAGAKURE sign is painted bright yellow because it’s the place where the sun comes to shine. Gaara’s stomach curls at the sight of it, so nauseating that he can’t open his mouth to tell Temari to _turn the fucking car around_. He watches as the car drives past the sign and the highway peters out into a street he hasn’t seen since he was a kid, when his face was pressed against the window as he looked back.

When they get to the actual house, it doesn’t seem at all like anything’s changed—it’s still homey, has that little porch out front where he used to play. (He cupped soil into his hands and shaped them into little mounds on the ground, patting them as if each were a womb that contained a seed.) It’s kept clean, too, which he knows from hearing Temari calling a home service on her phone multiple times.

“Leave your stuff with Kankuro,” Temari says to Gaara. She turns her head back to face him instead of meeting his eyes through the rearview mirror as she did while driving.

“I can do it,” Gaara insists.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Kankuro tells him with a hand placed on Gaara’s shoulder. “You should go rest.”

 _I’ve had enough fucking rest, can’t you see—_ Gaara keeps his mouth shut and just opens the door to get down from the car, the cool spring wind automatically nipping at his skin. When he gets down, it hits him how tired he is, and the first breath he takes inside the house makes him think his ribs are collapsing into his lungs.

Kept clean like this, it’s objectively a nice house. His mom used to renovate and decorate the house as often as she liked, had the kitchen remodelled to look like the set of a popular cooking show from a long time ago. At some point, she just stayed in her bedroom and never came out.

Without bothering to wait for his siblings or to check out the rest of the house, Gaara goes up the stairs and heads for his bedroom, falling asleep as soon as he has his shoes off and he’s lying down on the bed.

 

(“You’re awake!” Temari nearly shrieks as a piercing white light enters Gaara’s eyes. Her face is rough and haggard, her hair tied up every which way. She’d been crying, her tears leaving clear tracks on her makeup, and her hand is shaking when she smooths back Gaara’s hair. “Are you okay?”

Gaara sits himself up, all the while shaking his head. He can’t feel the tips of his fingers, just the weight of his head sinking down on top of his shoulders. Why is he awake? He wrings his head as he tries to make sense of his consciousness but then his face crumples until he’s sobbing into his hands.)

 

He wakes up around dusk, back drenched in cold sweat. There was a tree in his dreams, like the one he remembers is in their backyard. Tall and imposing, it loomed overhead, its shadow swallowing Gaara up. He walked up to it, even closer, because he meant to climb it and see what he could find, but something in his stomach curled and ached at the sight of its peeling bark.

He gets out of bed to look at the backyard through his bedroom window and sees only a stump lit by the setting sun.

Temari and Kankuro are sitting around the kitchen island when Gaara goes down. They’re sharing a pot of tea between them in silence, looking up only as Gaara entered the kitchen.

“Do you wanna eat?” is the first thing Temari asks him. She puts on a smile for Gaara that makes him feel guilty. “But I haven’t started cooking yet. I didn’t know what time you were gonna wake up.”

“How about we order in?” Kankuro suggests while already whipping out his phone. “Pizza?”

“Sounds good,” Gaara says with a light smile. He pulls up a chair between his siblings and Temari gets him a cup with which they share the tea. “Was I interrupting anything?”

“Nah, we weren’t doing anything,” Kankuro answers with a shrug, which he eases up with a grin thrown in Gaara’s direction. “You wanna veg out in front of the TV?”

 

***

 

He stays on the porch most days. He’s up early (he has to be, is wired to be) and by mid-morning is sitting on the bench outside with a book. This is to let Temari and Kankuro breathe, because something about _Gaara_ makes them feel and go absolutely on edge and Gaara feels absolutely terrible about it, of course, but he can’t do more than sit on the porch and barely understand the words in his book.

No phone, because somewhere between his last moment of consciousness and the hospital, his phone got broken or lost and never found a replacement. Not much conversation with Temari, because _I’m sorry_ can only bear so much repeating. With Kankuro, they can stay in the house and watch re-runs of cartoons from when they were kids till their brains go to mush. They play games on Kankuro’s console. But again, neither of those activities demand much words… not that Gaara needs them to understand Kankuro’s or even Temari’s depth of caring.

No one’s explicitly stated that he can’t go outside while he’s recovering, but for the first weeks, the thought to just never occurs to him. He likes his book and the quiet of the house when Temari goes out for errands and Kankuro retreats to his room. Quiet that isn’t fabricated. He’ll stay on the porch till dinnertime.

It feels a lot like praying.

 

(“I feel drained,” Gaara confesses to his therapist, to which his therapist asks, _What do you mean by that?_ and Gaara has to say, “I’m supposed to feel rage, because that’s in my head before I—” He stops himself, but she just stares at him with transparent scrutiny that makes his skin crawl. Acknowledgement heals, he’s been told. “Before I drink… so it goes away. I’m not drinking now, but there’s nothing in my head.”

She nods and finally writes something down on to her clipboard. “And what did this rage sound like?” she asks.

“It sounded like… shouting. Like a riot, a wave of people descending upon…” _Me. And I get scared of myself._ )

 

It’s summer by the time Gaara decides he’s had enough.

“Sorry, no,” Temari refuses him outright. “Look, nothing’s died down yet. YouTube channels want to make videos of you titled _Where is Gaara now?_ and who’d look stupid disputing them after they’ve uploaded their videos? You.”

“Sorry,” Gaara says, too, and Temari’s harsh look softens.

 

(His therapist continues to ask, prompting him, “So when you said you feel drained…?”

“It’s quiet. But it feels like something’s wrong. And then I think I want it back, the noise… the rage… just so I can remember some feeling.”)

 

“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re only asking now,” Temari admits. She stirs some milk into her afternoon cup of coffee then drops some ice into the glass. “Did something happen?”

“I was just…” Gaara falters on his words, so he tries again. “I just wanted to walk outside.”

To his surprise, Temari reaches for his hair and smooths it back, like that last time at the hospital, and it makes Gaara feel like crying, tell-tale pinpricks at the back of his eyes. “Is being back here hard?” she asks.

Gaara shakes his head.

“If it does, tell me. I’ll find a way,” Temari promises him. “What about Dad’s room? We can have it remodelled, if you want.”

“Sure,” Gaara agrees though he’s never stepped foot in that room once since he arrived on the doorstep weeks ago. “We can turn it into a library.”

“That’d be nice,” Temari says with a smile.

 

She brings him to the supermarket later that evening anyway. Lets him pick out things he wants to snack on or to have for dinner. Then she tells him to get a pack of cherry tomatoes and make it two.

He’s taken in by a row of bright summer squashes, ranging from pale ones striped with dark green to yellow, bumpy, wrinkly ones. A hand comes between Gaara and the squashes to pick up a routine zucchini to put in his basket.

It’s the shirt that gives Naruto away, a bright orange colour he’s always worn and Gaara has always associated him with, along with his smile, wide and bright and beautiful. Gaara’s breathing quickens and he ends up blurting out, “Naruto!”

Naruto laughs. “I thought you forgot all about me,” he jokes.

No. Never. These days, Gaara hadn’t given much thought to what his life in Suna was like before he left, but it comes back to him, how much he liked Naruto, liked playing with him during recess at school and walking home with him… His heart is beating wildly in his chest. “It’s nice to see you,” he says. “You look like you haven’t changed.”

“Yeah, you think so? It’s probably ‘cause I haven’t been doing much,” Naruto admits sheepishly as he raises his hand to rest it on his nape. “How long have you been back in town?”

“A while now,” Gaara admits, “but I haven’t seen anyone yet.”

“We should catch up!” Naruto suggests brightly. “Are you busy?”

“Now?” Gaara’s eyes shift between Naruto’s face and the stack of tomatoes in their clamshells and goes, “Yeah, I gotta get going…”

“No problem, man! Let’s get together soon, okay?” Naruto gives him a slight wave before heading into an aisle, Gaara reluctantly waving him back.

 

***

 

Like some sort of cosmic joke, Gaara runs into Naruto at the supermarket again. Until the cosmos point out that this is literally the only place they could meet. Still, Gaara’s nervous and tries not to drop the carton of eggs he’s holding when Naruto catches him.

“Hey! Funny seeing you here again,” Naruto points out. He has another orange shirt on, this time with a bowl of ramen screenprinted on the front, and with a beaming smile, he reaches for a carton of white eggs as if to contrast the free-range brown ones Temari told Gaara to get. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“I’m not sure,” Gaara answers. Then, he adds, “I can’t cook.”

“Me neither. I used to let my roommate handle all of it,” Naruto says, grinning. “I cleaned the dishes, though.”

“Seems fair,” Gaara notes. “It’d suck if you left your roommate to do all of it.”

“Definitely! I’m not an asshole!” Naruto insists, his reddening face clashing with his shirt. “Anyway, like I said, we really should catch up, you know? Not that Suna’s changed a lot, but…”

“It’d be nice,” Gaara agrees, “but I’m not sure…” He doesn’t know if Temari would allow it, but he wants it enough that he admits, “I think we’d have to talk to my manager about.”

“Really?” Surprisingly, Naruto’s face doesn’t fall. Instead, he just teases Gaara, “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to you.”

“I’ll just grab some milk and we can talk to her,” Gaara then says, surprising himself. He grabs a carton of milk before going to the oils and dressings aisle, where Temari said she’d wait for him.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Temari asks, stopping when she takes notice of Naruto behind him. “Oh, hi.”

“This is Naruto, my friend from grade school,” Gaara introduces before he puts the groceries in Temari’s cart.

Temari nods at that, going, “Yeah, I remember you now. It’s nice to see you.”

“Can I borrow Gaara for a bit?” Naruto asks. “I’ll bring him home, I promise.”

“Sorry,” Temari tells him. “I need Gaara home for dinner.” She faces Gaara briefly before adding, “Unless you’d like to join us…?”

Naruto just keeps grinning. “If you’ll have me, sure. I’ll swing by in a bit.”

In the car, Temari pinches Gaara’s cheek with a grin of her own. “You should’ve seen your face when I told Naruto no. You looked like I stole your favourite toy or something,” she teases him. He just hopes she doesn’t notice his skin burning underneath.

 

At home, Gaara helps Temari make dinner. No knifework. He’s sautéing paper-thin slices of garlic with some red pepper flakes in olive oil, letting the garlic cook on very low, gentle heat so they don’t brown and turn bitter before turning soft and sweet.

“Hey,” Temari begins to say once she’s put the dried spaghetti into a pot of boiling water, “are you nervous?”

Gaara keeps his eyes on the stove, using a wooden spoon to keep the garlic slices moving lest they sit around in the pan too long and develop colour. The earlier excitement died down to be replaced by dread, dread at the thought of having to come up with excuses for why he’s in town, and despair if he can’t come up with a good lie and _has_ to tell the truth and Naruto would just… not understand.

“Do you want me to call him and tell him not to come?”

“No!” Gaara protests too quickly. “Yes?”

Temari gives him a wry smile and stirs the pasta in the pot once before she says, “I know that you want to see him, and I don’t want to be someone who just cuts you off from everything because that’s the last thing you deserve right now.”

“You’re not,” Gaara reassures her. That’s something that took him a while to learn: acceptance, concession, trust. (What is true is known but isn’t necessarily felt.) And even longer to vocalise into existence.

“Thanks, but even I can see where I’ve been messing up with you lately,” she says. “I know how hard it is to ask this from you, but I want you to have a little more patience. Just till we get everything sorted out. Things _will_ get better, I promise you.”

Gaara nods and lets Temari hug him (just briefly, before they have to get back to their cooking tasks). “Can Naruto still come over?” he asks tentatively.

Temari laughs as she chops up some lettuce for a side salad. “Sure. He’s a good kid.”

 

Naruto brings flowers, bunches of crimson cosmos and bright amber marigolds. It’s impressive to think that he managed to put a bouquet together in the hour or so since they last saw each other at the supermarket, until he explains, “I stopped by the store to grab these. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but the marigolds are in bloom,” after handing the flowers over to Gaara.

Gaara puts his nose to the bouquet as if it were a bunch of roses, right before Temari takes it from him to transfer into a vase of cold water. “Hungry?” he asks Naruto after clearing his throat.

“Starving,” Naruto answers with a sheepish grin. “Did you cook?”

“Barely,” Gaara offers as he leads Naruto to the dining room.

“I figured,” Naruto says lightly. “I’m sure you were always out eating someplace fancy.”

Right. Because that’s what everyone thinks stardom is like. They’re not wrong, obviously, but— “That gets boring. Sometimes,” Gaara divulges with a slight smile. “Sometimes I just want home cooked food.”

“Is that why you’re back here? Hiding?”

Temari doesn’t look back at Gaara as she goes to get the pasta from the kitchen and to call Kankuro to come down, but Gaara can feel pressure coming from her. “Sort of…” Gaara finally says before taking a sip of water.

Naruto wiggles his brows at him before asking, “Is it some juicy scandal?”

“Nothing like that. I just wanted to take a break,” Gaara tells him with a shy, hopeful smile. And Naruto smiles back at him.

“Hey, that’s great! Everyone needs a break once in a while. And we’re in the middle of nowhere, right? No paparazzi would ever find you here,” Naruto says, his dimple deeply rooted in his cheek.

“Except that it’s common knowledge I used to live here,” Gaara reminds—teases—him.

“You’ll be fine!” Naruto reassures him. “Even if people know Suna by name, it’s a whole other story to get here. Remember when we were kids and the next town was a six-hour drive away?”

After the highways were built, the drive was reportedly shortened to just under two hours, but by anyone’s standards, Sunagakure still stands in the middle of nowhere. The nearest airport is still a whole day’s trip away. “When we were driving up here, the GPS kept telling us to get back on the highway,” Gaara jokes.

Naruto laughs and goes, “See what I mean? But I wouldn’t live anywhere else.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it either,” Gaara admits with a grin that mirrors Naruto’s. By then, Temari and Kankuro had come down and taken their places at the dinner table. Kankuro offers Naruto food, which he accepts while easing into conversation with Kankuro about some common friends.

“Neji’s getting a PhD? Man,” Kankuro says with a shake of his head, “he’s too smart for his own good. How’s Lee?”

“He opened up his own gym. You should definitely come! He’ll give you a free membership if you ask.”

“Shit, really? Thanks, dude. I haven’t gymed in a while. Coming, Gaara?”

Temari laughs behind her glass of water. “Isn’t Lee that crazy martial arts kid?” she asks.

“And?” Kankuro prompts, which makes Gaara let out a laugh of his own.

 

“You’re right, that dinner was _insane_ ,” Naruto emotes to Gaara as they wash the dishes (they were helpless against Naruto’s insistence). In Naruto’s excitement, suds fly to Gaara’s cheek. “Temari and Kankuro are really nice, too.”

“Thanks,” Gaara says, a small smile creeping up his face. “You’re the first person who’s been over here in a while, so…”

“I’m flattered,” Naruto tells him with a grin. “Though I guess you’d want your privacy, huh?”

“I’m sick of them, actually,” Gaara deadpans, making Naruto laugh. God, he wishes he were witty.

“You know, when we saw you on TV back in middle school, we all thought you’d be gone for good,” Naruto tells him, sheepish all of a sudden, his hand coming up to rest once again on his nape before he stops himself, realising his hand’s wet and covered with soap.

No one really missed Gaara, which doesn’t surprise him at all. “I’ll be gone soon enough,” Gaara promises.

At that, Naruto’s smile drops into a frown. “Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. You just got here!”

Gaara’s been in Suna for _weeks_ at that point and for any and every reason, he feels like he’s at his personal finish line, and he doesn’t want to think about where Naruto fits in with all of that. “I’ve been doing a lot of reading,” he prefaces as he scrubs the inside of a glass. “And reflecting. I think I’m close to finding the answers I need.”

Naruto’s face scrunches together, as if deep in thought, but he’s only rinsing plates and placing them on a rack. “That’s great,” he offers. “So you’ll be back out there when you do find them?”

“I’m not sure,” Gaara answers, which is the only thing he can truly say for certain. “What if the answer isn’t for me to go back out there?”

“Then what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Gaara repeats. “Maybe that’s another thing I need to find out.”

Naruto hums. “I think I get what you mean,” he says. “I’ve been running my parents’ shop, and that’s pretty much all I can think about doing.”

To Gaara’s embarrassment, he can’t remember a thing about Naruto’s parents. “What shop is it?”

“Flowers!” Naruto answers. “It’s how I got you those. I deliver bouquets, too. Doesn’t seem like something I’d be doing, huh?”

“It seems a lot like something you’d do,” Gaara muses out loud, “more than you think it does.” But what does he know, having been gone for a good decade or so? Good thing Naruto doesn’t seem to think that at all, judging from his grin. “You’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, I guess I am…I mean, why not, right? I think I’m doing okay.”

“‘Okay’ is so relative,” Gaara argues. He should be doing okay, too, right?

“Sure, but if you know yourself well, then it’s fair to say you’re doing okay.”

By then the dishes are finished and they rinse their hands, drying them on a dishtowel hanging on a cabinet handle.

“Do you want to hang out outside?” Gaara suggests. “Or would you rather stay in the living room and play games?”

“Outside,” Naruto decides. “I wanna talk some more with you.”

Gaara’s heart flutters at that, an old feeling resurfacing, in which he feels like he needs to be close to Naruto to—to feel what he longs to be clarity? He swallows it down and leads Naruto to the porch, sitting on the bench with Naruto following suit.

“It’s really nice here,” Naruto tells him as he looks up at the sky with its smattering of stars. “Has it always been like this?”

“Probably not. The original house we lived in as kids was a lot different.” But the backyard never really changed. Except for the stump that Gaara points out. “That used to be a tree.”

“Why’d you cut it down?”

“Everyone’s afraid of it,” Gaara confesses.

“What, like it’s haunted?”

“Haha, kinda…” Gaara’s voice trails off as he falters with his words, tired of having to tiptoe but also aware— _fearing_ —that he has no other choice. He used to look up at the tree and see how it can hurt him.

“Huh…” Naruto muses as he remains staring at the stump. “Such a shame, though. I’m sure that tree was around for a long time. See? The base is so wide.”

It’s the first time Gaara’s heard someone regard the tree’s loss as a shame. (When he asked Kankuro about the tree, Kankuro just looked at him and said, “What does it matter to you?”) Gaara feels the loss like a dull ache. “There are a lot of bad memories associated with that tree,” he says slowly, his palms growing sweaty.

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” Naruto says quietly. “I don’t wanna pry.”

There’s a pregnant pause between them, Gaara too distracted with telling himself to calm down and Naruto occupying himself with quietly looking around the backyard. Eventually Temari invites them back in the house for iced tea and berries covered in a blanket of soft, freshly whipped cream.

Naruto is back to his smiling self, like a spell had been lifted, and he says, “Thanks so much for the food, Temari! It was great, all of it.”

“You’re going?” Temari asks.

“Yeah, I got an early day tomorrow. Got some errands to do before I open up,” Naruto answers as he places his hand on Gaara’s shoulder, the gesture and the warmth of his hand ensuring that Gaara thinks of little else. “Thanks for having me over, Gaara. I’ll see you around?”

Gaara turns to face him and gives him a small smile. “It was nice talking to you,” he says.

“We should hang out again,” Naruto tells him. “See ya!” Before getting up from the couch, he pulls Gaara into a hug and Gaara finds it hard to common his arms to move and wrap themselves around him.

Kankuro bids him bye and sees him out. When the door finally clicks shut behind Naruto, Gaara lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Oh, Gaara, the contractor called me today,” Temari begins with a sly smile towards him. “He wants to know if there’s anything specific you want in the new room before he makes the bluepints.”

 

***

 

“Here, bro,” Kankuro says as he tosses a white box onto the porch bench (they’re getting a swing soon, for a decidedly more romantic feel). “We got you a little something. Sorry it’s not the latest model or anything, but Temari thought you’d be better off kicking it old school for a while anyway.”

“Thanks…” Gaara says automatically as he puts his book down, his hands only reaching for the box after the fact. In it is a cell phone, a very basic one, but thankfully not one of those old, _old_ models from when Gaara was a kid, with the black and white, almost analog screens that faded after some time. A wave of nostalgia hits him when he turns it on, a smile running through his face. “Really, thanks.”

“We put our numbers in already,” Kankuro adds.

“So why’d you guys get me one?”

Kankuro frowns at the question, as if he doesn’t really understand why Gaara’s asking. “Temari said something about being prepared for whatever happens.”

 

“Hey! Is that really your phone? Can I see?” Gaara hands over his phone to Naruto, who immediately opens up the little games widget as his face lights up in excitement, not caring that they’re in the middle of the supermarket, right in front of the stone fruit. “I haven’t played these games in forever,” Naruto says. “That’s so cool. I didn’t even know people were still making these!”

“The novelty wears off pretty quickly,” Gaara says. With nothing on it but the essentials, he’s still left reading a book on the porch at home, but it’s nice to have.

“I’ll add my number, so you can text me and stuff when you’re bored,” Naruto offers with a grin. He exits the game he was playing and types in his number, slowing down when he has to put in his name. “I forgot how hard these were to use.”

“Yeah, so don’t expect a quick reply from me,” Gaara deadpans. They never texted as kids, but something about this exchange feels vividly familiar to Gaara, like he just _knows_ Naruto’s the type to reply right away, for one thing. Gaara’s own anticipation is so palpable—in his mind, he’s sitting in front of the TV, phone in hand as he watches cartoons with half-assed attention, ready to open any message as soon as it’s arrived in his inbox.

Gaara gets his phone back just as Naruto demands, “You gotta send me one right now!”

“What?”

“So I can get your number,” Naruto says with a roll of his eyes. “Make it nice.”

 _Hi_ , Gaara types before sending it to Naruto, who laughs as soon as he sees the notification on his phone.

“Glad I didn’t tell you to make it funny,” Naruto teases him. He texts Gaara back: _Hi :)._ “You’ll text me back, right? Promise?”

Naruto is just so… _easy_ in a way that Gaara can slip right into. So open and warm, like the sunflowers in his shop that Gaara saw when he and his siblings passed by on the way to the supermarket. The sunflowers’ petals were spread wide like an invitation to embrace, and Gaara just steps in willingly.

Gaara smiles, holding his pinky up to swear. Like when they were kids. “Promise.”

 

***

 

 **Naruto:** i didnt think itd be so hard to text

 **Naruto:** i cant send u pictures

 **Naruto:** or emoji

 **Gaara:** Or messages one after the other.

 **Naruto:** sorry its a habit

 **Gaara:** I understand. How was work today?

 **Naruto:** sweet! EVERYONE gets married in june so im getting all these requests for anniversary bouquets and shit… hows ur day???

 **Gaara:** Same old. I just finished a book.

 **Naruto:** no way, i KNOW u got those games at ur place. LETS PLAY

 **Gaara:** You’re not tired?

 **Naruto:** from picking flowers all day? i wanna kick ass at sumthin

 **Gaara:** We could play…

 

***

 

It’s come to the point where Temari asks, “Is Naruto not coming today?” when it gets to six pm and the house is still. She frowns—she’s worried—and takes up the place on the couch beside Gaara. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Gaara answers, because it’s the truth. And he even gives her a small smile for it. “Why?”

“He’s been here every day for a couple weeks now,” Temari begins.

“But he’s busy today,” Gaara supplies. Naruto’s meeting up with friends, which Gaara can understand, but he also can’t deny that he’s gotten used to having Naruto around; it’ll get late, about ten pm or so, before Naruto decides to go home for the night, only to repeat the entire ritual the next day.

“I’m just worried,” Temari vocalises, “that you have all this build-up with him, but something will… you know, happen.”

Gaara nods then admits, “I’ve been thinking about that a lot.” He’s scared to have him and scared to lose him, essentially, and the whole thing feels unreal and wholly undeserved. But he’s been told too often in therapy to avoid making homes out of people. “I think I’ll just enjoy what we have for now.”

“Uh-huh…” Temari says, totally unconvinced. “Are you gonna talk to him?”

“About me?” Gaara hasn’t thought that far, really. He’s used to having lines handed to him, learned confrontation with the stammers and pauses already put in just so. With his knees drawn to his chest and chin propped up on top, Gaara considers an unfurling scene, where Naruto is seated on Temari’s spot and their hands are clasped together. “I think I should,” he finally decides on, his head light now.

Temari nods with a slight hum.

 

***

 

Naruto shows up the next day with a grin and a slender bouquet of star-shaped pink lilies.

“How was your evening with your friends?” Gaara asks as he takes the bouquet from Naruto, trying to swallow down the urge to say he misses him. He goes into the kitchen to put the flowers into some water, Naruto following him.

“It was great! It’s been a while since we all hung out like that… You should come next time!” Naruto invites him.

It takes all of Gaara’s power to not drop the vase while he asks, “Would your friends be okay with that?”

“Yeah! I told them about you, if that’s okay. They thought it was cool that you’re back in town. Like Sakura. Remember her?”

Gaara nods, but he remembers her only slightly and only by the pink of her hair. He feels his face turning the same shade thinking of Naruto talking about him with other people. “Tell me when the next time is,” is all he manages to say.

“You bet! You shouldn’t keep yourself all locked up at home, you know,” Naruto teases. He takes the vase from Gaara and puts it in the living room, conveniently near the gaming console so he could boot it up.

 

(At sixteen, Gaara was scripted for his very first kiss scene. The plot: he’s a rebellious kid in high school who’s more or less tricked into caring about school by the smartest kid in class and they kiss on the school’s roofdeck after he convinces her to play hooky. A B-class act. The direction: Gaara’s character has kissed before but this might be the first one that means something to him.

Gaara kisses sweet, quiet Hinata for a total of three times before they get a satisfactory take. He doesn’t know if he took the direction to heart, but they kiss again in the dressing room. He admits to her that that was his first kiss.)

 

They pause the game to have dinner, but afterwards, Gaara leads Naruto out to the porch instead of back to the living room.

“Do you mind if we talk for a while?” Gaara asks.

“Not at all!” Naruto answers, as bright as ever. “What’s up?”

“About me staying at home all the time…”

“I hope you know I was just kidding,” Naruto says right away. “I know you’re here to rest and stuff. I’m not judging!”

Gaara has to laugh, his face twitching into a smile as he listens to Naruto try to explain himself. “It’s okay. There’s a… real reason for this,” he starts off with. His face straightens itself, right on cue, and he adds, “I was in rehab for a long time, about six months, and I don’t know… for a while, it felt normal. I went through it without problems, and everyone was hopeful about my recovery.

“Then it felt stifling, and I was getting angry again. It’s why I took so long to leave; Temari kept extending my stay, because she knew if I left too soon—she knew I’d just end up in the hospital again. Or worse.”

“What do you mean, ‘Or worse?’” Naruto asks, his voice wavering just so, like he’s afraid.

There aren’t any wounds on his skin; they’re all inside of Gaara, festering and putrid, but he fidgets with his shirt like there’s something insidious lurking underneath. “I tried to kill myself,” he admits. “I took and took something until my body couldn’t take it anymore. Temari said she found me and rushed me to the hospital, but when I woke up, I just—

“It’s unbearable, you know. Waking up. Taking care of yourself when you don’t want to… know anything or feel anything.

“I don’t know how it started, but I knew there was a point where everything just became grey to me. I was so unhappy. My father used to manage me, got angry when I didn’t want to take jobs. Before then, it was my mom. She accepted every single offer, she brought me to so many auditions… She wanted to see me succeed.

“It took a toll on her body. Before I knew it, she was on bedrest and I never saw her again.” Temari took over shortly after their father rendered himself useless with alcohol. It seemed so matter of fact and she took to the job so effortlessly, but Gaara felt a nagging guilt that blamed him for what their family became—and for a career he didn’t particularly want.

“I’m here because it’s safer for me and easier for my siblings, but…” How can Gaara explain the house, that he feels peace inside it, but only because his father is long gone—because Naruto comes so often he’s more fixture than guest yet Gaara anticipates his arrival each time?

Gaara shakes his head and goes, “I’m sorry, this is probably a lot for you.” Too much, that’s what his father said all the time about Gaara, when he doesn’t do as he’s told because he doesn’t agree. “And I’m sorry that I lied to you—”

“Stop,” Naruto says in a low voice. There’s a distance between him and Naruto that Gaara wishes could be closed as his heart continues to beat in a steady, loud thrum. “You don’t have to say sorry for that. It’s hard enough to talk about, so I can understand why you didn’t want to in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Gaara agrees with a slight nod, embarrassment flooding across his face. He clears his throat and says, “Thanks for understanding.” It’s then that Naruto pulls him into a hug, deep enough that Gaara can bury his face into the crook where Naruto’s neck meets his shoulder. He smells like summer.

When Naruto pulls away, he says, “We’re friends, right? I love you.” Gaara’s heart feels tender, and he wishes he could be held again, longer, more lovingly. But this is enough for now.

 

***

 

Beyond the secluded world of Gaara’s corner of Sunagakure lies everything he forgot. He goes out of the house one day and feels like he’s on an excursion, his hand firmly grasping Naruto’s. They’re on the edge of discovery.

They’re meeting Sakura for lunch. It’s a Sunday morning and the town is quiet, so they walk leisurely. Past the flower shop. Past the supermarket. There’s a public library—which isn’t new but Gaara’s surprised to see it and is sad that it’s closed at the moment—and a laundromat, which is also closed.

“I forgot Suna dies every Sunday,” Gaara says in all earnest, but Naruto laughs at that so hard that he has to stop in his tracks and bend over, clutching his stomach.

“You’re right. This isn’t the best time to go out,” Naruto tells him once he regains his composure. “But I’m just glad Temari let us.”

“Probably because it’s Sunday,” Gaara jokes. At least, he _thinks_ it’s a joke. “But I’m really beginning to think that no one can find me here.”

“Yeah, what are they gonna do, take the Highway 47 for three hours then miss the exit because they blinked?” Naruto adds with a laugh. “No one who can hurt you is here, I promise.”

Gaara just looks at him. “You always sound so sure of yourself,” he comments. It’s reassuring, but also, within an entirely different part of Gaara, nerve-wracking, unsettling, unthinkable.

Naruto makes a face as he thinks about it, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “Hm, it’s not like I’ve seen much of anything—not as much you have, ya know, but I just say what makes sense to me,” he says.

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Then I’ll say sorry. People make mistakes.”

They round another corner to the diner where they’re to meet Sakura. An hour early, they settle into a wide booth and order glasses of oolong tea over ice and onigiri, one with salted salmon and another with seasoned seaweed. The owner, Baki, said his pickled plums were finally ready and offers them two pieces on a small plate to try.

“Hey, you know, the cinema did a special screening of your first movie when it came out,” Naruto says after a big bite of onigiri. There’s one cinema in town, where the lone movie to be screened is usually the biggest, most anticipated one of the week. “It was cool. The whole class got together to watch it.”

“I wasn’t very good in it,” Gaara says as a matter of fact as he busies himself with stirring the ice in his tea. It was a small family comedy, where he was the quiet son whose innocent comment in school landed him in trouble with his teachers and shocked the whole family, till they realised he meant something entirely different.

“But it was really cool, ya know, because it was someone from Suna! No one could’ve thought that.”

“Are you telling him about the screening?” Sakura cuts in as soon as she’s arrived, taking her seat in the booth beside Naruto. With a sly face towards Gaara, she adds, “He made a cute banner and cheered for you every time you were on screen.”

“Shut up,” Naruto mutters to her, his face turning a deep pink.

“Anyway, it’s good to see you again, Gaara,” Sakura tells him with a wide smile, her eyes curling up into half-crescents. “It’s been what, twelve years?”

That long? “What are you doing now?” Gaara asks.

Sakura talks, first tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m in med school now. It’s in Konoha, but I visit on weekends when I can,” she explains.

“She has a girlfriend up there, too,” Naruto mentions. “They’re both med students.”

“Congratulations,” Gaara says, making both Naruto and Sakura laugh. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s cute, is all,” Sakura says behind her hand that’s covering her laugh. “Naruto said you sound so super serious all the time.”

It’s alien to him, the blush currently blooming in Gaara’s face. “I wasn’t aware,” he says. He offers his uneaten onigiri to Sakura, who takes it appreciatively. “Should I change it?”

“No, don’t!” Naruto says. “I mean, it’s not a bad thing, ya know? It’s part of who you are.”

There are parts of himself that Gaara doesn’t like. He knows if he tells Naruto about them, Naruto will say something like _Everyone has those_ , not to dismiss but to reassure, to help Gaara focus on the parts of himelf he _does_ like.

Or something like that and Gaara’s just projecting. He settles back into his seat and listens to Naruto and Sakura catch up over hiyashi chūka and tsukemen.

“Hey, Gaara, how long are you in town for?” Sakura asks.

“I’m not sure,” Gaara answers, placing his chopsticks on the rim of his unadon. “Probably for a while. I want to… figure things out.”

Sakura hums in sympathy. “You don’t have to rush it or anything,” she says. “Like, my girlfriend took a year off before going to college.”

“What?” Naruto interrupts. “No way!”

“Yeah, Ino’s a year older than me. She didn’t know if she wanted to continue her family’s business or not, but she figured it out in time,” Sakura goes on. After she takes a sip of water, she tells Gaara, “There’s really no time limit for these kinds of things.”

 

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” Sakura says to Gaara before they part ways in front of the restaurant. Gaara tells her likewise and she pulls him into a hug, smelling like fresh perfume. It goes on for what feels like forever, until Sakura pulls away and just smiles at him. Then, she gives Naruto a much more emphatic hug and a kiss on the cheek and tells him, “Behave.”

Naruto sticks his tongue out at her. “Tell Ino Gaara and I said hi. And bring her next time.”

“I was gonna this weekend, but she had a wedding to attend,” Sakura sighs. “Anyway, we’re gonna be on summer break soon, so I’ll drag her down here or something.”

With that, Sakura gets into her car and drives out towards Konoha while Naruto walks Gaara home.

“I had fun,” Gaara says, a little more than pleased when Naruto holds his hand again, this time with their fingers lacing together. His heart threatens to stop.

“Isn’t she great? She’s one of my best friends. Things got a bit lonely when she went to college, but we’ve made it work.” Then, Naruto adds with a wide grin, “She gets mad at me when I text her too much, though. At least now I have you to bother.”

Gaara can’t help smiling back. “You’re welcome to.”

 

***

 

Summer passes by in much the same way, except it became unbearably hot and humid and Naruto sat out on the swing of Gaara’s house, mouth open and gaping like a fish out of water, light sheen of sweat stuck to his skin and too lazy to do much of anything but swelter. Until Gaara turns the airconditioning on.

It’s the beginning of fall now, still warm days but the nights are cool and refreshing. Easy.

Naruto leans on Gaara a lot on the couch, scrolling through his phone. The TV’s on a series Gaara had never started, but one of the actors is someone he knows, someone he used to go to parties with. Gaara changes the channel to a cooking show.

“Hey, are you free next week?” Naruto asks, laughing when Gaara just looks back at him—Seriously? “So it’s my birthday…”

He talks at length about his birthday, all at once shy and excited. It infects Gaara.

“So, ya know, you should drop by!” Naruto finishes. “Meet the gang and all.”

“I’ll go,” Gaara promises him. Temari would say yes, probably with whatever restriction she can come up with, but that’s okay. Preferred, even. “Should I bring anything?”

“Nah, just bring yourself. It’ll be fun!”

 

***

 

Naruto has a lot of friends. When Gaara gets to his house, it scares him just how much he doesn’t know anybody there (but somewhat relieved that it seemed to be mutual). Kankuro said he’d drop by later when he has to pick Gaara up (Temari’s request), but it seems like an eternity to wait for him with Naruto nowhere in sight.

When he _does_ see Naruto, he’s wonderfully bright, voice rising above the music and din. He’s recalling something, his hands moving a lot, and his friends laugh along with him. It recalls a movie; the light concentrates on his radiance.

“Gaara!” Sakura hugs him from behind, the scent of her perfume being the first thing he notices. “I thought that was you!”

“Hello,” Gaara says when he finally turns around to face Sakura and her girlfriend, who’s smiling into her drink. “I’m glad to see you.”

She’s tipsy, he can tell, her palms clammy when she takes his hands, and she smiles at him like she can’t control it. “Come hang with us,” she says. “We’re gonna chill in the living room with Shika and Choji.”

Ino pulls Sakura away from him and promises, “I’ll take care of her, okay? But come, it’ll be fun.” So Gaara follows them into the living room, settling into the farthest corner of the couch from the rest of them and feeling like an awkward teenager at the ripe age of 24.

“Hey, guys, this is Gaara.” Sakura slurs out. “You know, the movie guy.”

“Yeah,” one of them says with a wry twist of his mouth. He extends his hand to Gaara and introduces himself as Shikamaru, his lone hoop earring catching light.

“So you must be Choji,” Gaara then tells the other. “Nice to meet you.”

Choji glances briefly at Sakura before saying, “Same, dude,” and raising his bottle of beer to his lips.

“I haven’t seen you around.”

“Really?” Choji muses aloud. “Not that it’s hard to miss someone like me.”

“I’m from Konoha. I’m taking my JD there,” Shikamaru offers, his tone dry. “I just come down here if there’s somethng to do.”

“They’re both from Konoha,” Sakura explains with a roll of her eyes. “Choji’s just playing with you, Gaara. Don’t listen to him.”

“You want a drink?” Choji asks with a wide grin. “Beer? I think Naruto’s got some mixed stuff, too.”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Gaara answers. (“If someone offers you a drink or something else, like cocaine or ecstasy,” one of the rehab counselors began at a workshop, “how would you respond?”)

Choji frowns at that and ventures, “You sure? I can definitely mix something up for you, whatever you want.” (“And what if they insist?” the counselor then asked.)

Gaara nods. “I’m really fine,” he insists on his own, feeling a small twinge of pride when they drop the question and proceed to talk about other things, like Choji’s yakiniku restaurant in Konoha or Ino’s friends from college who get on her nerves a lot.

“Ugh, I always tell them I’m busy and it’s like they don’t get what that means!” Ino complains. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, they can be, like, _so_ sweet, but I wish they’d leave me alone sometimes.”

“Why?” Shikamaru asks.

“Because, like, I don’t wanna feel guilty that I can’t drop shit to hang out with them whenever they feel like it,” Ino explains. She hangs her head, her long ponytail falling over her shoulder. “Ugh _hhh_ , FOMO is _real_.”

It’s not that this is boring—it just feels like Gaara doesn’t necessarily have a place in the conversation and nothing to offer besides, so when someone else closes in on the group and joins them, Gaara slips out and starts walking around the house, heading towards the kitchen first.

The kitchen’s littered with bottles and cups, and Gaara can’t help himself, stacking up cups to throw in the trash bag and placing used glasses in the sink and rinsing them. He wants a drink, definitely. The thought of pouring a bottle into a dirty glass is just barely enough to discourage him, and so he powers through, letting the pride he feels lead him on.

More than that, he wants to go home and considers walking, but no, not without wishing Naruto a happy birthday. He leaves the kitchen to head upstairs, where the corridor opens up into a balcony on the far end. Everyone just seems to be coming from there, an endless stream of people coalescing into the hall, into lines for the bathroom or into a quiet room to rest in. By the time Gaara reaches the balcony, it’s bare and breezy, more bottles and things littered on the surfaces, and he takes the space as his.

He feels small. He feels it as he looks down into the dizzying lights, the streets that are black holes. He hears his breathing. Cold air around him. The world shifts around his feet, almost begging to tip him over the railing. It’s the magnetic pull of the asphalt, where his head could crash and splinter into a thousand shards. The intrusion makes him dizzy.

“Gaara!” Naruto calls out to him. He’s bright-eyed and flushed, a cheeky grin on his face, a drink in his hand. “You made it!” When he notices how Gaara’s body is pressed too close to the railing of the balcony, his smile quickly drops into a frown. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gaara answers then steps away, wipes the sweat away from his palms. “Happy birthday. Sorry I forgot your gift.”

“You got me a gift?” Naruto confirms with him, his left hand now stretching towards Gaara to wrap around his waist. He reeks of alcohol, which now makes Gaara’s nose tickle. “Thanks,” he says, mouth pressed against the crown of Gaara’s head. “So what were you doing here?”

“I just needed some quiet,” Gaara explains as he tries not to gape at the body heat emanating from Naruto, which is almost to the point of being unbearable. “Are you drunk?”

Naruto laughs. “A bit,” he admits with a slight shyness to him. “Are you having fun?”

 _Is_ he? Gaara frowns like he’s really trying hard to think about it, but eventually he goes with, “There are a lot of people,” which is barely an answer. Speaking of those people, it isn’t that late yet, so their din is still audible, rising above the music.

They’re all down there, but Naruto is here with him.

“Yeah, I guess.” Naruto peers down the railing as well to listen to the noise, but only briefly, no tension like the one in Gaara’s shoulders. He lets out a low whistle. “Shit, you’re right,” he breathes out.

Gaara sighs as the weight of Naruto’s body continues to settle next to him. Naruto offers him his drink, at which he shakes his head.

“Right, sorry,” Naruto murmurs then sets the drink down on the railing.

“I should go,” Gaara says.

“What?” Naruto pouts, his hold on Gaara tightening, pulling him closer. “Now? Are you sure?” His breath is so close to Gaara’s face now and Gaara shivers. Naruto whines, “Come on. _Stay_.”

Tears well up in Gaara’s eyes, his lightheadedness fooling him into thinking he’s drunk, he’s made a mistake. He rests his forehead on the railing.

“Gaara?” Naruto calls again, in a much softer voice, and he lowers his head, too, to match Gaara’s. “Hey, what’s up?”

Gaara shakes his head, a guttural whine coming out of his throat, then he’s crying into his hands, hot tears filling his palms. It’s like his brain’s shut down and he has no idea why this is happening, just feels it so strongly in his chest. Maybe he’s tired. Inconsolable, maybe. Being wanted is incomprehensible after getting used to being everyone else’s burden.

So Gaara wipes his face and tries again: “I really should go.”

Lifting his head up, he can see how Naruto’s eyes narrow and his eyebrows knit together. “Did I do something wrong?” Naruto asks.

“No,” Gaara answers right away. His voice is still thick from crying. And it’s not like he’s had actual problems with communicating, but all Gaara feels like he could do is lean closer to Naruto, get lost in his shining wet eyes and say, “You’re the light of my life,” before kissing him. He doesn’t mind his own face streaked with tears, the bit coming out of his nose.

Naruto doesn’t seem to mind it either. He twists his body so he can use his free hand to cup the back of Gaara’s head and cradle him there. Kisses Gaara deeply despite the way Gaara’s lips are trembling. Naruto tastes drunk and heady and leaves Gaara to scramble for him like he’s grasping at air.

When they pull away, Naruto’s the first to speak. He first puts the pads of his fingers to his lips then asks, “Can we do that again?”

Gaara’s heartbeat overwhelms his ears, so he just nods and Naruto pulls him in.

 

“Here,” Gaara says as he hands Naruto a glass of water and one for himself in the kitchen that was once again littered with a seemingly never-ending supply of plastic cups. The party’s dying out. It’s the small-town charmness of ending just a little before one in the morning. Everyone who entered the kitchen hugged Naruto, wished him a happy birthday, and bid him good bye.

Naruto smiles with clear eyes up at all of them and thanks them for coming. He’s so gracious and good.

When it’s just Sakura and Ino left in the house, helping clean up, Gaara stays with them while Naruto sleeps on the couch in the living room.

“Where’d you disappear to?” Ino asks lightly.

“You found Naruto, didn’t you?” Sakura teases with a sly wink, sober now except for the makeup strewn around her face screaming otherwise.

Ino laughs at that and puts a whole stack of dirty plastic cups into the trash bag Gaara holds out for her. “That’s so cute. And it’s been a while since Naruto’s had anyone.”

“Really?”

Sakura looks at him with incredulity as she mentions, “Well, he hasn’t left Suna, for one thing. And everyone datable leaves after a while.”

Gaara transfers leftover pizza to a single box then gathers all the empty boxes into a single stack. “Why doesn’t he want to leave?” he asks as he follows Sakura into the living room. Though if it were up to him, he wouldn’t leave either.

She hums as she fixes the blanket covering Naruto then answers, “I guess the thought just never occurred to him.”

Ino comes up to fluff the pillows and kiss Sakura’s forehead. “Are you heading home?” she asks as she wraps her arms around Sakura’s waist and rests her chin on her shoulder.

His gaze flickers from Naruto to the door and back to Naruto again with the peacefulness of his sleeping form. “I’ll stay.”

“Make sure he drinks some water when he wakes up,” Sakura reminds him. “Just put up a glass and leave it where he can see.”

“Take care, sweetie! It was so nice seeing you.” Ino says before letting go of Sakura to give Gaara a hug. She has such nice, soft hair and sweet, pink lips, a lot like the actresses he’d be paired up with at events. Her style, too, runs similar, which takes him back, though no one ever calls him sweetie the way she does.

Sakura hugs him too and thanks him. “I just live next door. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

As soon as they leave the house, Gaara goes to get a glass of water to place on the coffee table then sits on the ground by the couch and falls asleep.

 

***

 

 **Kankuro:** Gaara where are you it’s 4 am

 **Kankuro:** Hello???

 **Kankuro:** Bro pick up your phone

 **Kankuro:** Shit Temari just called

 **Kankuro:** I’m waiting outside

 

Gaara wakes up to a message alert. Judging from the light streaming into the living room, it can’t be more than six or seven in the morning. He blearily looks at his screen, reading the text Kankuro sent, then realises Kankuro sent four before that, and his blood runs cold.

Quietly, he slips out of the house and finds Kankuro asleep in their car, which is parked outside, the engine shut off and the windows rolled down. Gaara sits shotgun and shakes Kankuro’s shoulder to wake him up. “Kankuro?”

Kankuro jolts awake with a curse, wiping his eyes and mouth with the back of his hand. “What the fuck, Gaara?”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry’s not cutting it, bro.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Gaara points out, just to let him know.

“That’s great, but we were worried sick that something happened to you. You had a phone, you could’ve at least texted me or something.”

Seeing Kankuro’s face like that, drawn out and tired, the hoodie he’s huddled in—it’s too much. “I’m really sorry,” Gaara says again, his gaze drawn to his knees. How does he even begin to explain the whole night?

Lucky for him, Kankuro only heaves a loud sigh. “Just text Temari and tell her you’re fine and we’ll be home soon,” he instructs. As he waits for Gaara to type out the text, he starts up the car and rolls up the windows. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Gaara says.

Kankuro pulls out of the driveway and drives not towards the house, but towards the only fast food joint in town. It’s a localised version of a fast food joint, all sorts of rice bowls that they can top with things like thinly sliced spring onions and flakes of crushed nori.

“You okay?” Kankuro asks after they bring their trays to their seats. He picks apart a pair of chopsticks then right away digs into his gyudon.

“Yeah,” Gaara says. He pokes a hole into his oyakodon to peek at the rice laying underneath the egg and chicken. “I’m just thinking of what to say to Temari.” On the way to the joint, Temari texts him back _Okay_. It’s definitely ominous.

“She’s pissed as fuck, you know that,” Kankuro says lightly. With the brothiness of his bowl, he ends up switching to a spoon. “Just be honest with her. What happened?”

Remembering that he kissed Naruto with absolutely no excuse (and, more importantly, that Naruto _kissed him back_ ), Gaara’s entire face heats up. “Naruto and I—”

Kankuro interrupts him with a loud laugh, which feels even louder in the empty joint. “I knew it.” At Gaara’s stare, he continues, “Look, you know Temari wouldn’t let you go to just any party. Hell, I wouldn’t either—Sorry, bro, it’s not that I trust you. It’s just… you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Gaara says, which is unfortunate and true. “I really didn’t take anything, I swear.”

“I believe you,” Kankuro says simply. “Come on, eat that shit quick so we can get home.”

 

Temari is so angry when they arrive home, turning the TV off to face them with her hands placed firmly on her hips. “Kankuro, can you leave us alone for a minute?” she asks. Just as soon, Kankuro’s disappeared.

Before she can say anything, Gaara says, “I’m really sorry. I should’ve told you that I wanted to stay over.”

“If you’re gonna drink behind my back, at least find a better excuse,” Temari huffs out.

“But I wasn’t drinking,” Gaara insists. “I was offered some and I declined.”

“Okay, fine! So you didn’t fucking drink!” Temari throws her hands in the air, probably as a distraction from how wet her eyes are becoming. “That doesn’t change the fact that you broke your promise to me! After all I did for you, you can’t even follow one _simple_ request—”

“I didn’t ask you to take care of me,” Gaara sneers, the annoyance he feels burrowing under his skin like a bad itch.

Temari stops at that. “What do you fucking _mean_?” she asks. “I’m your _sister_ —Of course I’m gonna take care of you! We’re _family_.”

Something in Gaara is telling him to stop, but he feels like a petulant child. His blood’s boiling and he wants to wring something bone dry with his hands. “You should’ve just stopped me instead of being my manager and worrying so much about PR,” he points out, his heart dropping at the rate in which Temari’s own face falls.

“I didn’t even know—You know I would’ve if you just said—I didn’t want to get in the way more than I already have,” Temari stammers, her blinking causing tears to roll down her cheeks and leave tracks over her makeup.

“I know I’m being so hard on you, but you just don’t know how it feels to—I was the one who found you, and you were passed out on the floor, not even breathing. I thought you were _dead_ —Everyone was telling me to give up on you and I knew I should’ve but you’re my little _brother_. I couldn’t bear to lose you.

“And then you wake up and you were just so unhappy… That broke my heart so much, you know, seeing you cry on that hospital bed, telling me you didn’t want to wake up anymore. How was I supposed to feel about that?

“I was so helpless. I knew we made you that way and I was so angry at myself for turning a blind eye on you. And I couldn’t give you what you want because that’s just… so _unthinkable_. Who could live with that? Do you honestly think any of us will help you _die_?

“I spent all night last night thinking I did _just that_ and I wanted you to come home soon so I could—”

She only stops to let out a full sob, crying pitifully into her hands, her entire body shaking. “I’m so sorry,” she cries out, her words muffled. Then, she brings her head up and wipes away at her eyes and continues, “I’m sorry I can only do so much. I want to take away the pain you feel, but it’s just not something I can do. I can only be there for you, but you have to help yourself.”

Gaara’s own throat is closing, sticky and rough with incoming tears. He has literally no words, feeling only fatigue and shame as he watches his sister cry for what feels like forever.

It’s not enough to reach out to her, to offer some comforting touch that is honestly beyond him now. He stands alone, stone-still, and by the time Temari composes herself, he can only say, “I’m sorry.”

She faces him with red-rimmed eyes and a sniffle that she folllows up with a swipe of the back of her hand under her nose. Her mascara is clumped and clinging on to her bottom lashes. “I love you, Gaara,” she says finally. “I always will. And I’m so sorry if I haven’t made you feel it enough.”

Gaara nods at that, shame still blooming in his chest as heat. “I love you, too,” he says with a rough voice. “Thank you for everything.”

 

***

 

 **Naruto:** hey u home?

 

***

 

Ignoring Naruto only works on the assumption that he isn’t his own force. Meaning, Gaara doesn’t expect him to barge through their front door with a large potted cactus and a similarly prickly expression, and Gaara just lets him in.

“Are you ignoring me?” Naruto demands.

Meaning, Gaara should just sigh and give that up. “Sorry. It’s just been… difficult around here.”

“Oh.” Naruto’s entire demeanour shifts. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Then, as if he’d only just remembered about the bulky cactus, he thrusts it in Gaara’s face. “I brought this for you, by the way.”

Gaara tries not to laugh as he takes over carrying it, walking slowly out into the porch. “What for?”

“I thought it’d be cool if you had something to take care of. You only gotta water a cactus twice a month,” Naruto explains with a smile.

“I’m sure I can manage that,” Gaara jokes. He gets to the porch and lays it down by the swing. It’s a round one with a snow-like layer of thorns on its dark green surface, slightly comical and cute. “Thank you.”

“It better not be shrivelled up when I come to check on it,” Naruto teases him. “So what’s up?”

“Do you wanna stay in the library?” Gaara suggests. It’s warmer there, which he longs for as the cool, crisp air runs through his thin shirt.

“Sure!” Naruto concedes then follows Gaara upstairs.

The library’s been Gaara’s go-to place ever since it’d been complete. Everything inside is plush and cool, only a smattering of books so far. Naruto plops himself down on the chaise, legs spread open. Gaara takes a seat beside him.

“Sorry for ignoring you,” Gaara says to begin with. He’s been saying sorry a lot lately. With tentativeness, he lays his head on Naruto’s shoulder then relaxes when Naruto doesn’t push him away. Naruto’s shirt smells like too much fabric conditioner.

“Yeah, that really bothered me.” Naruto crosses his arms and Gaara winces at how Naruto just didn’t mince his words. “What happened? I thought we were good.”

“Temari and I…” Gaara begins, leaving a heavy pause in the air as he decides on what to say. Eventually he just explains what happened to Naruto as simply as he can.

“She loves you a lot,” Naruto says when Gaara’s finished talking.

“Yes,” Gaara agrees glumly.

“How are you guys now?”

“We made up,” Gaara answers, “but I felt so much guilt and still do now. I have to do better.”

His therapist told him to never let guilt linger; it gets in the way of any meaningful action. But what’s already settled remains there with stubbornness.

“You know how she feels. Isn’t that a good enough start?” Naruto asks.

Gaara nods at that (or as much as he could in his position) and lets out a sigh as he wraps his arm around Naruto. Enjoying the warmth, his presence. Naruto hums happily, his lips widened into a smile that he presses against the crown of Gaara’s head.

 

***

 

Kankuro drives him out of town for a weekend to go hiking while the trees are still burnished red and orange, but they barely make progress beyond the foot of the mountain when Kankuro suggests they just have a picnic at the base. They open the packed food Temari’s prepared for them and eat amongst the fallen leaves.

“Temari said Naruto’s been sleeping over,” Kankuro teases while offering Gaara the other half of the sandwich. “What’s up?”

“Just that…” Gaara says with a clear of his throat. His cheeks feel hot.

“Come on. How are you _feeling_?” Kankuro presses. He wants to know. “Sorry. Things at work just get kinda hectic around this time of year. I know I haven’t been home in a while.”

For one thing, Gaara likes waiting for the days when he can water his cactus. He’s considering getting another, maybe a tall one with splindly arms or something that can bloom bright pink desert flowers. And this is not to say that the days in between contain some amount of hesitation, where doubt creeps in at the slightest lull and begs to be occupied and driven out. Gaara’s just gotten good at staying busy.

“I like waking up,” Gaara finally answers.

 

***

 

 **Gaara:** My cactus is sprouting. What do I do?

 **Naruto:** rly? thats great!!! u gotta cut them off so they can grow into new ones

 **Gaara:** Can you help me?

 **Naruto:** sure babe im coming over ;)

 

Naruto shows up with chrysanthemum seeds to plant indoors and petunias for the backyard. “You up for these?” he asks with a grin.

“It’s almost winter,” Gaara points out.

“Yeah, I know! You grow them indoors then transfer them outside when it’s spring.”

Gaara looks at the seeds, elation blossoming in his chest. “Okay…” he starts, then takes the seeds from Naruto. “Where are the other things?”

“They’re on my bike. I’ll meet you out back?”

After Gaara’s confirmation, Naruto runs back to his bike to get them while Gaara goes to the porch, setting the seed packets on the swing while waiting. Naruto comes back with a wooden crate full of pots, a bag of compost, a knife, and his smile becomes even brighter and wider when he sees the cactus he gave Gaara shooting off into smaller buds on the surface.

“Aw, they’re cute,” he coos as he sets down the crate and squats down to look at the cactus properly. “You know, this means that it’s happy. We just gotta cut these off for now.”

“Then put them in the pot?”

“Oh, not yet.” With the clean knife Naruto slices off a bud and holds it up for Gaara to see, the cut side shining wetly and translucently. “It’s all wet, so if you put it in soil now, it’s just gonna rot. It’s gotta dry, which will take a while, but I’ll leave the cactus soil here for you so you can transfer them as soon as they’re dry.”

“What should I look for?” Gaara then asks.

“Hmm, it should be shrivelled up and whitish. So you put the buds in the pot cut-side down then just wait for them to root. You wanna do those first?”

Gaara nods and takes the knife from Naruto, places it close to the bud but just stops short of slicing it. Maybe it’s because he’s waiting for Naruto guide him, his hand warm as he fixes the angle on the knife.

“It’s always gotta be at this angle. You want water to slide off the cut on the main plant,” Naruto explains as he lays the cut buds on the ground next to the cactus so they can dry in the sun.

It’s the first time Gaara’s held a knife in months and there is no other thought in his mind than to cut each bud off the main cactus at a forty-five degree angle. There’s some weak sun beating down the back of his neck. A good feeling.

They leave the six buds out to dry while Naruto shows Gaara how to sow seeds into the pot. He promises that when it’s spring again, they’ll de-pot each flower and plant them in the yard to start a garden. How’s that sound?

Suddenly it makes sense, what Sakura said about the thought of leaving Suna never occurring to Naruto. It makes sense when contentment is a familiar feeling.

Despite his hands all dirty with soil, Gaara cups Naruto’s face and kisses him. Naruto gives him a lazy smile and kisses back, leaning his weight on Gaara ever just so till Gaara’s on his back, Naruto straddling his hips.

 

***

 

Temari’s watering the potted plants, which are in the kitchen while it’s winter outside. She does this while waiting for a stew to finish, her hips swaying a little to the music Kankuro has playing from the living room.

“Can’t wait to see these in spring,” Temari tells Gaara, who feels much the same. “Should we dig out that old stump and make room?”

The thing is, Gaara’s already imagined a summer of sitting on the tree stump, up to his ankles in flowers. “We should keep it,” he says. “It’ll look nice with everything put together.”

“You think so?” Temari asks. She leans back on the countertop and sips on her hot chocolate, her face scrunching together as she imagines the backyard in summer. “What, like some sort of meadow?”

“Something like that,” Gaara confirms with a shy smile. Temari laughs at that and pinches his cheek.

“You’re such a romantic,” she coos. Must be all the books he’s read over the months. The pervasive, inexplicable feeling of going out the front door and still seeing so much empty land or the other feeling of opening the door to someone happy to see him. Sitting out on the porch in the backyard and hearing things rustle.

The movies he starred in. People who’d shout in his ear when they’re drunk or high, going on and on and on about some great adventure and a beyond. Their palms opening as they invite him to try.

Kankuro comes into the kitchen to demand, “Is dinner done yet?”

“Not yet,” Gaara answers while Temari shrieks at him, “Do something useful and slice the bread, bastard!”

“Fine,” Kankuro acquiesces and wanders around the kitchen to find the loaf then the bread knife to slice it into thick pieces. “It smells good. What’s in it?”

“Ask Gaara,” Temari answers with a shrug. “He made it.”

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/heartdispIay) account (dms are open, if you want to talk!)
> 
> please let me know what you think ahhh i'm so nervous about this fic TT


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